


Touching Beneath

by BumblyBeeBounce



Series: Just a Touch [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mando is touch-starved, Pining, Smut, how do i even tag, is this armour porn?, okay no banging but smutty imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23132821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BumblyBeeBounce/pseuds/BumblyBeeBounce
Summary: It started with simple concern and veered off into whole new territories. It had only been a matter of time.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Series: Just a Touch [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790905
Comments: 8
Kudos: 191





	Touching Beneath

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so I haven't written fanfic in about a decade but have been getting the itch lately. Also posted on my tumblr @bumblybeebounce

The light streaks of hyperspace travel looked pretty on her, Din thought vaguely before squashing it. _They always had,_ the thought returned almost instantly, and he fought the urge to shift on the pilot seat.

He wasn't even sure how it got to this point, the preceding moments feeling strangely fuzzed over and irrelevant. The bounty was secured in a slab of carbonite, the Crest is already almost half of the way to the next bounty’s location, the Child was dozing in his closed pram and she...

She had been worried. About him. There really was no need, the mark's punch to his helmet and the stray blaster shot to his chest plate had been nothing, barely felt before he had clocked the target and shot the other one, respectively. There was no need to worry about him, but at the same time, maybe the punch to his head had affected him more than he thought because he was failing to come up with any other explanation why he had allowed her to get so close that she was standing between his legs, one knee resting on his thigh and a careful hand on the spot on his helmet had been hit.

Din's hands tightened their grip on the armrests of the chair as her other hand came up to the other side of his helmet and the usual instinct of grabbing a hold of the hands and pushing them away was only half there, slight rippling along the muscles of his arms under his clothes and beskar. His eyes, behind his visor, observed hers as they flitted along the surface of his helmet. He swallowed and wondered if she could hear his sped-up breathing. He sure could.

"... Beautiful craftmanship." She muttered, almost in awe as her fingers slid along the surface of the beskar, nails scratching along the surface. She truly looked like she was caught up in admiring the helmet, and his breathing suddenly hitched and Din swore he could almost feel the ghostly sensation of her nails and fingers over his cheeks. Maybe it was the sound combined with the atmosphere, but there were pleasant tingles over the skin of his cheek and bubbling up at the base of his spine, restless and almost like a living breathing thing, growing before receding and blooming up again, a bit bigger this time.

One hand slid a bit more down, along the divots of the helmet, slipped off, ghosted the fabric along his shoulder before delicately resting on a pauldron. Her head turned to look at it as she continued to feel the surface. The other hand slid down softly, carefully, and touched the spot the stray bolt had hit on his chest plate, still lightly scorched. Din drew in a deep breath through his nose, keeping his torso as still as possible while his stomach expanded, hoping the helmet didn't amplify the sound and... He wasn't sure what. Break the moment? Snap her out of it? Did he want that?

He should turn in his chair now, before the white noise in his head got worse. He should.

He didn't.

"Were they made by the same person?" Her head turned towards the scorchmark now as the hand on his shoulder slid along the surface of the pauldron, the question coming out almost absent-mindedly. The little skittering sparks of electricity moved across the skin of his chest now, under the beskar she was touching. He couldn't see it, not without tilting his head down and making it obvious, but even with the knowledge that her skin was separated from his by metal that could withstand almost anything, and several layers of cloth, it was almost as if she had reached through and caressed him directly, lovingly, with the same wonderment he was sure she was gazing at the soot coming off the plate and onto her fingertips.

"... Yes." The answer came after a beat, like Din forgot for a moment anything had been asked, his voice was strangled and the word thick on his tongue, slightly breathless and quieter than he meant to. She hummed in acknowledgment. "The Armorer." He continued involuntarily, slightly confused because he damn sure did not plan on expanding on that answer. He usually didn't, why was this different? "In the covert." _Where else would there be a Mandalorian Armorer,_ part of his brain berated him in a voice that wasn't terribly unlike Paz’s voice when he remarked how lonely Din's single braincell must feel and he swallowed thickly.

But it wasn't until her other hand also touched his breastplate that his spine stiffened, his stomach and thigh muscles pulled taut and the blasted tingles exploded up to his ribcage, and when her hands swept down he swore he felt it drag down his chest, along his ribs and more embarrassingly, felt it slip sweetly down his spine and right to his cock.

All at once the dam broke. All those images he'd conjured up in his head over the course of the relatively short partnership, the ones he'd buried so fast he had barely even been aware of them burst forward. What would she look like under him? Riding him? What would she sound like with his fingers inside her, touching the slick warmth of her pleasure and taking her higher? How would she taste with her legs clamped around his head and her hand tight in his hair, praying and pleading to any god that would listen, praying for _him?_ Would she giggle when he drug his fingers along the stretchmarks on her thighs, when he kissed behind her ear? Would she go cross-eyed and cum loud on his cock, or with a breathless whimper of shock and surprise, would she submit with a blindfold over her eyes as he drank the moans from her mouth like kissing her was as much of a pleasure as fucking her deep?

The whole-body shudder travelled through him and he caught her hand in midair, halfway to the beskar on his thigh. She drew in a sharp breath and looked like she'd been startled awake from a trance at his touch. Her eyes moved to his visor as she withdrew the hand on his chest like it burned, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she tried to find something to say.

"I-" Her throat worked in a large swallow and she drew another sharp breath. There was something in her gaze, something dangerously warm and inviting that he didn't trust his own voice. Didn't trust himself any further than simply releasing her wrist and clutching the handrest again as she drew up from her position and removed her knee from his thigh.  
"... I'm sorry." Another swallow as she lowered her head in apology. Din prayed the cockpit was dark enough that she couldn't see the effect she'd had on him.

In his haze he found enough brainpower to finally turn his chair around and offer a hoarse "It's fine." as he moved, hands rising to the controls through muscle memory. His companion cleared her throat and shifted towards the door.

"I'll go make food. The little one will wake up soon." Even when turned away her voice covered him like a blanket and sparks climbed his spine again. He offered no response, he simply couldn't, and she slipped deeper into the ship. When the door closed, he tugged off his helmet almost violently and drew in a gasping breath, unable to get enough oxygen in through the helmet. His shaking hand raked through his hair before covering his mouth. Din had tried, oh how he'd tried to ignore it, but it was uncomfortably clear now.

He was _fucked._

And as his dick jumped in his pants over a stray thought of her on her knees, looking up at him with her tongue licking up with the same fervour and throughness he'd seen her lick the icy treat she'd had three planets ago, he closed his eyes and briefly, deliriously wondered if she felt the same maddening pull as he did.


End file.
